


You Mean 'We'? (Episode 15x02 coda)

by WickedNerdAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angst, Boys Kissing, Confused Dean Winchester, Determined/Frustrated Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedNerdAngel/pseuds/WickedNerdAngel
Summary: He knows there's no way out of this; he knows all of these people he's trying to save are going to die, including the people he loves, and he knows it's all going to be for nothing. Nothing.In which Dean Winchester is a mess, and Cas decides to try again.





	You Mean 'We'? (Episode 15x02 coda)

**Author's Note:**

> Come jump on the angst train with me!  
Hope you enjoy, and please leave kudos and/or comments if you liked it! Comments are the PB to my J!

***

"Screaming on the inside

I am frail and withered

Cover up the wounds

That I can't hide

Walls that lie between us

The saint within the sinner

I have lost the nerve

But it's all right

Carry the wounded and shut your eyes

All will be forgiven

None will rise

Bury the fallen and lead the blind

I will fight the loss

Dead inside

Into the nothing

Faded and weary

I won't leave and let you fall behind

Live for the dying

Heaven hear me

I know we can make it out alive."

~Into The Nothing, Breaking Benjamin

***

There were only two words, but Dean can't stop thinking about them. Two words bouncing around Dean's brain like it's a goddamn pinball machine and the words are tearing up every meticulously placed obstacle he's laid down in their path. Words Dean _ didn't _ want to hear. Words he _ doesn't _want to think about.

Because it wasn't real. This isn't real. _ They aren't real. _

"We are," Cas had said. So astutely. So absolute. So full of confidence. But what does it _ mean? _ Dean wants to punch something. Anything. If he could slam his fist into one of those godforsaken hellspawn, he would. 

Godforsaken. Now there's a funny word. Meaning God's forgotten. God's exited stage-fucking-left. But he hasn't, and Dean knows it. Sam's wrong; Dean just doesn't have the energy to fight him on this. Hel no, Chuck's still around. Playing them like fucking chess pieces. Probably popped himself a jumbo sized tub of popcorn, drinking mimosas or something equally douchey, and moving them around the black & white checkered board like the pawns that they are. 

Cas can say, and believe whatever the hell he wants, but Dean's not wavering in what he now knows is the absolute truth. The only truth he's ever known. Their lives… have been… a _ lie. _ Every move they've made. _ Lie. _ Every life they've saved, or _ couldn't _ save. _ Lie. _ Telling Zachariah to go fuck himself; going to hell; _ Sam _ going to hell; supposedly thwarting apocalypse after apocalypse; taking in Jack. Not to mention all the shit Cas's been through. _ All fucking lies. _ Losing all the people he's ever cared about… repeatedly. All for what? So Chuck could get his rocks off because, "it's a cool story, bro." 

The relationships he's had? The feelings he's had for people? The fucking _ profound bond _ with Cas? How can he trust any of it? How can he trust _ anything _ even his own brain comes up with as truth? _ How _ can he trust any feelings he has for _ anyone _when he feels like nothing but a marionette on a goddamn string? 

He smashes the paper cup in his hand, throwing it across the small 'break' room with as much force as he can muster. The poor, mangled wad bouncing off the wall opposite him and landing nearly all the way back at his feet as if to say, "don't give up." It's pisses him off even more and he kicks it before storming out the door and through the makeshift 'command central' they've created. 

He barks an order - one which he doesn't even remember the moment it leaves his mouth - at Sam, who just stares at him with that wrinkled brow and puppy dog eyes, which only serves to turn his anger into unadulterated rage. He keeps eye contact with Cas the longest. Green eyes boring into blue; anguish and something akin to pity on the angel's face as he shoves the door open and hikes across the parking lot to get to his baby. Once inside, he tries to take a slow cleansing breath, as they say, but it doesn't work. His rage boils underneath his skin like a pot that's been on the stove too long. His palm slams against the steering wheel as he mutters, "fuck you, Chuck… fuck everything." 

Jack is gone. Their _ son _ is _ gone. _ All because 'God' thought it would make a good story. He and Cas are at each other's throats, and he's positive Chuck is enjoying _ that _ the most. All the times he brought Cas back to life… back to _ him _, just to take him away again because of some sick fascination with 'good story-telling.' 

Is their friendship even real? Are his _ feelings _ even real? Is anything?

_ Fuck. _

He hates this with every fiber of his goddamn being. Throwing Baby in drive, he peels out of the parking lot. He just… needs to get away, and realizing that there's nowhere to go doesn't stop him. He reaches the edge of the quarantine zone and slams on the breaks, the Impala groaning her protest as he swings the door open roughly and steps out. He whispers a silent apology to her before his feet start moving. 

Dean paces, back and forth across the seemingly peaceful, suburban road, but he knows it's the opposite of peaceful. He knows there's no way out of this; he knows all of these people he's trying to save are going to die, including the people he loves, and he knows it's all going to be for nothing. _ Nothing. _

He makes his way back to the Impala, climbing up on the hood and nearly collapsing into himself. Shaking fingers reach up to grip already mangled hair, his breath leaving him in a labored rush as he whispers, "Mom?" Dean says her name like a prayer. There was a time, what feels like a million years ago now, that he would've prayed to Cas. Not now. The angel's just as lost as he is. And Dean can't let himself get past what Cas did… what they _ all _ did. But Dean smiles sadly as he thinks of her. Anger and melancholy warring in his body. It feels like it's tearing him apart. " _ God _, I wish you were here right now. I-- I don't know what to do this time. Me and Sammy… and C-Cas, we're at a loss. I dunno how to fight the most powerful being on earth. I dunno how we're gonna save these people. I-I dunno if we're gonna make it through this alive. Not this time. And there's no help. God did this. Hell, Mom, I don't even know what's real anymore." 

He hears the ground crunch behind him, and he's on his feet, gun drawn and pointed before his brain can catch up with his body. "Hello, Dean," he hears before he sees the angel standing in front of him. "Don't shoot!" Cas's voice sounds a little strained, hands in the air, and Dean's gotta be honest. It gives him a small twinge of satisfaction. "Your brother already did that once." Cas rolls his eyes. 

Dean lowers the gun, glaring as he says, "Well you should know better than to sneak up on me like tha-- wait a minute, what? Sam shot you? Why? I mean, I'm not mad about _ that, _ but…"

It's Cas's turn to glare. Dean ignores the heat he feels on his neck because of it. "Nevermind," the angel replies. "It isn't of import and it doesn't matter." Silence stretches between them for an uncomfortable amount of time before Dean tears his eyes away and turns around.

"Why are you here, Cas?" He mumbles, fumbling with his Glock before tucking it back in the waistband of his jeans. He hears Cas take a breath and hesitate.

"When you left, it looked like… the way you looked at me, well, it looked like you might need to talk."

"No." Dean shakes his head. "I don't need to _ talk _, Cas, I need to figure out what the fuck to do." His head is turned to the side now, but his body is still keeping him distanced from the angel. Cas, stone-faced, waits for him to finish. "Besides that, I think I'm all talked out. I said all I needed to say."

"That nothing is real. That everything is for nothing. Right," Cas says, clearly unconvinced.

"Yeah. Right," Dean replies petulantly.

Cas just stares at him for a moment. He looks around at the scenery, at the Impala, and then back at Dean. "You were… praying to Mary." It isn't a question, it's an observation. Dean's temper flares. 

"Fuck you, Cas," he growls as he turns around to level a dangerous look towards his so-called friend. Cas's expression is solemn, remorseful. Good. "I told you never to say her name again and I fucking meant it." He points a finger at Cas, his voice cracking as he continues, "You keep her name _ out _ of your mouth!"

"Dean," Cas begins, his voice soft, soothing, and Dean hates it. "I don't know how many times I need to say it to you, but I'll say it until the end of time, if that's what I have to do. I'm _ sorry. _ I'm--" he shakes his head and turns away for a moment before looking back at Dean with tears swimming in his eyes. The pinball in Dean's head breaks through another barrier. Dean wants to go to him. Despite himself, goddamn it, he wants to wrap him in his arms and profess his forgiveness, but he's not about to do that. "I failed you and I know I did. I failed everyone, and I can never make amends for that." 

"Cas," Dean's tone has lost all semblance of enmity. "It's not even about that right now, okay?"

"Right," Cas replies, indignant. "It's about what's real." He huffs out a breath. _ "That _ was real. _ This _ is real," he motions between the two of them and Dean's heart picks up. He starts to speak again, but Dean cuts him off.

"You said _ we." _

Cas lifts his head a little higher, nods his reply.

"Yeah. Flesh and blood and bone." Dean smacks his own arm. "I get it." 

_ "No, Dean, _ you don't." The anger flares in Cas's eyes, making them darker than usual. "Our lives, you and your brother, your _ family _ , everything you've done, all the good… it's _ all real!" _

"And how do you know that, huh? Cas?" Dean laughs without an ounce of humor. "You don't! You're just trying to make me feel better and I want you to stop!"

"I do know, you unbelievably stubborn…" Cas doesn't continue his insult.

"Oh, and I'm sure you're gonna explain it to me in a way that makes sense, right? No thanks. We've already fucking _ talked _ about this, Cas. You're wasting. Your breath. Besides that, I don't even know what we're fighting for. Look around you, man. We CAN'T get out of this. _ We aren't holding the strings." _

"That's not true--"

"Isn't it?" Dean swallows the lump in his throat before he continues. "All the people I've lost… all the times I've lost _ you _ ..." Cas's eyes widen at that, but Dean doesn't falter. "... only for Chuck to bring you back just to _ fuck _ with my _ head? _ Just to take you away again and _ again! _ As much as you wanna believe it, man, we _ aren't _ in control. Of anything."

"So what?" Cas says, too softly for Dean's own good. "You just want to give up then?"

Dean shrugs, and shakes his head. "What's the point, man?"

Cas holds his arms out and slams them against his sides. The impatience in him finally exploding. "I _ told _ you I agreed with you about Chuck writing," he air quotes, "all of this. I _ agree _ with you on that. But why do you think he had to keep writing? Huh?" Dean only shrugs, so Cas continues his diatribe, "why do you think he had to keep throwing things at you, at _ us, _ to-to change up the story, so to speak? Because you… and your brother… and eventually _ me _ kept screwing it up!" Another pinball smashes through another barrier. "Everytime Chuck wrote something, WE changed it!" Cas is yelling now. "We _ aren't _ puppets, Dean! We can _ have _ control of our lives. He's only the writer, Dean, but WE… we are the editors. Why can't you understand that?" His voice is lower, but picks up as his anger takes hold again. He steps into Dean's personal space and levels him with a challenging glare. "The _ point _ is that we _ are _ in control. _ We are _ real. Everything we've felt, all the pain, all the broken hearts, even all the joy, _ is real." _

"You said we," Dean repeats. 

Cas steps a little closer. "Yes. _ We," _ frustration clear in his tone, blue eyes blazing. 

"You mean," Dean gestures between the two of them, _ "we _we?" 

Cas rolls his eyes. "Yes, what was it you called me? _ Dumbass… we." _

Dean's mouth twitches, a smile trying to form without his permission, but he doesn't quite let it. Instead, he fists the lapels of Cas's trench coat, tight and rough. "Is this real?" He can't tell if he's genuinely asking or if he's challenging. 

Cas swallows. "Yes." 

Dean turns them and pushes Cas towards the Impala, and the angel lets him. He shoves him against it and though Cas let's out a huff, still he lets him. "Is this? Real?"

Cas nods. "Yes, Dean." 

Dean leans into him, their noses brushing and he can feel Cas's body tense, his breath hitch. "What about this, Cas?" He whispers, "is this real?" 

"It… it feels real to me." 

Dean nudges Cas's top lip with his own, gingerly, cautious. The angel's mouth opens almost instantly, and he sees out of his periphery, Cas's hands start to lift. "Real?"

"Yes," Cas breathes into Dean's mouth, and Dean closes the gap. He kisses him hard, deep, pouring all of his anger, his frustration, his pain, his longing into it. Cas grips Dean's sides, then wraps his arms around Dean until there is no space between them. He kisses Dean back with just as much emotion, just as much pain and frustration, and Dean suddenly feels like he's flying. They devour each other until there's nothing left to fight about. Nothing left to keep them at odds… at least nothing on the surface. When Dean finally pulls away, they're both breathless, Cas's arms still tightly surrounding the hunter, and Dean's hands firmly planted in the angel's hair, fingers buried in the dark, impossibly messy strands. 

"Yeah," Dean confesses on his breath, "that felt real."

"Dean," Cas begins, "that felt _ very _real." 

Dean hesitates before speaking again. His body feels like a fissure, pulling him apart in two very different directions, but at least he feels a little more grounded now. More free to express himself to this man/angel hybrid he loves with his entire being. 

"I'm scared, Cas," he breathes out, his voice the tremor of an earthquake. 

Cas squeezes him tighter, anchoring him. "I know, Dean. I am too. But I'm not going anywhere. I will _always_ be here... with you." 

"Good," he smiles softly as he untangles them from each other. He pulls himself together for a moment before an idea hits him like a knight piece knocking over a pawn (he doesn't really even know how to play chess, but whatever). He turns to Cas. "Let's go get Sam and Rowena… and that idiot demon." Cas cocks his head to the side. Dean stifles a chuckle. " If Chuck wants to play chess, we're bringing the game board to him."

"Dean, I don't understa--"

"Just get in the damn car, Cas!" 

Cas obliges, slamming the passenger door shut just as Dean peels out to head back to 'command central.' 

***

To be continued… on the show... hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided it's physically impossible for me to write these two without at least kissing.  
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please let me know by leaving kudos or a comment. <3 <3 <3


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